


Summer Storm

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short fics, prompt fills, drabbles, and vignettes depicting stolen moments between Levi and Petra Ral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving all of my fics from my doomed tumblr account to a more permanent location. Some of these have been posted on here before either by themselves, or as a collection I ended up deleting. I assure you that this is here to stay.

Levi scowls, shivering as he stuffs his hands deeper within the pockets of his jacket. He almost wishes he allowed himself more than the occasional drink because the frankly alarming amount of Vine Petra consumed seems to have numbed her from the cold.

He watches as she twirls around a lamppost and tries to muster up the proper amount of annoyance. He can’t. If anything, he’s impressed at her tolerance. She out-drank quite a few soldiers – Gunther and Auruo included – and she seems more tipsy than drunk. It could be worse. She hasn’t started sobbing for no reason or vomited all over his shoes. He can handle the constant giggling and the random, almost childish observations. And while the flirtatious – and sometimes downright smoldering looks – she gives him makes him all too aware of the heavy thud of his heart in his chest, the steady pulse of blood through his veins; the sensation is far from unpleasant.

“Petra.”

She stops twirling and turns to face him, tucking a strand of copper hair behind her ear with a sheepish giggle. The movement causes the over-sized sweater she’s wearing to slip off her shoulder and his gaze lingers at the creamy, freckled skin that’s exposed. He shakes his head, blaming his distraction on the fact it’s been a while since he’s gotten laid.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Where the hell’s your coat?”

Petra feigns innocence, but he catches a flicker of mischief in her amber eyes. “I’m not sure,” she answers. Then she bites her lip, her eyelids lowering ever-so-slightly, and slips her sweater back into place.

A hot flush starts crawling up his neck and he tugs at his scarf self-consciously. “We need to get you back to HQ before you do something stupid,” he mutters. “Well…stupider than getting wasted in the first place.”

Her eyes curve into crescents of amusement and she giggles, the bright sound cutting through the quiet night like a blade. She crosses her arms, tucking her hands under her armpits, and shivers. “It’s a little chilly outside, huh?”

“No shit,” Levi snaps. A little chilly is an understatement if he’s ever heard one. He hates the cold, spent too many winters without proper clothing or shelter, and he ignores the malicious part of him that thinks she should suffer the consequences of her drunken idiocy. “You owe me for this,” he says, slipping his jacket off and stepping towards her.

“What?” Petra looks alarmed, all of her good cheer disappearing within an instant. “No! Levi, I’m fine. Keep your jacket. Please.”

His eyebrow quirks at the familiar way she says his name, even though he’s never heard her address him with anything other than his rank. He decides against reprimanding her for it for reasons he doesn’t feel like dwelling on. “Just take it,” Levi sighs, shoving the jacket towards her. “Don’t make me pull rank.”

Petra hesitates before taking the jacket from his outstretched hand. She holds his gaze as she slips her arms through. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

He nods, trying not to shiver too obviously and ducking his head deeper within the thick scarf he has wrapped around his neck so she can’t hear his teeth chattering. The two of them walk down the cobblestone path in a comfortable silence. She stumbles from time to time, tripping over her own feet, but she manages to maintain her balance without his intervention. Levi keeps a close eye on her regardless.

She slows down for a second, swaying a little on her feet. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m probably making a fool of myself.”

Levi smirks and doesn’t answer. “So now I’m Captain again?”

“Beg pardon?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and batting her eyelashes at him.

“You called me by my first name a few minutes ago,” Levi explains, speaking very slowly as though he were addressing a child. “Now I’m Captain again.”

Petra giggles and averts her gaze, a pretty flush on her cheeks. “Well…,” she trails off and gives a little self-deprecating laugh. “What would you prefer I call you?”

Levi finds himself at a loss and feels a little guilty for encouraging the flirtation. He tries to think of what Erwin would do in a situation like this. He trusts Erwin, admires his strategic mind and the sheer strength of the man’s stubbornness, but there’s a voice niggling in the back of his mind that tells him he doesn’t want to end up like the ruthless Commander. Levi’s all too aware of his own humanity and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape it. So he doesn’t try.

“Come on,” he decides it’s safer just to ignore the question. His thoughts are all over the place and he needs to sort through them. And Petra, with her melting eyes and soft smiles, keeps distracting him. “It’s fucking freezing.”

“Here,” Petra tentatively wraps her arm around his waist, pressing her body against his. She takes his hand, carefully placing it on her opposite hip so his arm is tucked under the jacket. “Better?” she asks, her breath puffing out in a cloud smelling faintly of Vine.

Levi shudders, but not from the cold. For all Erwin preaches about camaraderie and togetherness, even simple touches are somewhat of a rarity among soldiers. He swallows thickly because he does feel a lot warmer, his blood becoming heavy and hot. “It’s fine,” he mutters.

The two of them continue walking. Petra seems to have sobered, her steps are steadier, a faraway look in her eyes. “Do you ever get lonely, Levi?” she asks.

Levi tenses. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Just curious,” Petra says.

He’s not an idiot so he doesn’t answer. “We’re almost there,” he states, hoping she picks up on the implied what the hell has gotten into you?

She halts, throwing him slightly off balance. He pulls away, concerned she’s about to get sick, but when he looks at her, he sees she looks more focused than she has all night. And then, as if the night isn’t fucked up enough already, she blurts, “I’m in love with you.”

Levi’s mind stutters and stops and he just stares, hoping he’s hearing things. But there’s a small part of him, long buried, that’s desperate to hear her say it again.

“There I said it,” she says and it’s ridiculous because she sounds angry, as though she’s as frustrated and confused by the whole thing as he is. “I’m sorry.”

Levi shakes his head, a bitter laugh bubbling up his throat like bile. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he sneers. “This is just the booze talking.”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me!” she shouts, her voice taking on the hard edge it gets whenever she loses her temper but there’s a slight waver, like the anger is just a cover.

“Listen,” Levi runs a hand through his hair. “You’re not the first subordinate to have a crush on a superior officer. This sort of shit happens all the time,” he hesitates because Petra glares at him, her eyes shining like flat coins in the poor lighting. “It’s not appropriate.”

“The way you look at me is hardly appropriate, Captain.”

Levi scowls. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Petra advances towards him and he steps backwards, eyeing her warily. “I think you do.” She opens her mouth to say something else but she trips over a loose stone, crashing into him. He stumbles backwards until his back hits a wall. All of Petra’s weight crashes against his chest and the air rushes from his lungs.

He grabs her shoulders, pushing her back and glaring down at her. “I told you not to do anything stupid,” he growls.

Instead of replying, she leans forward, pressing her mouth against his. He feels the soft brush of her tongue against his bottom lip and opens his mouth to her without thinking about it. Her lips are soft, her kisses softer, and he stands there, torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer. When she pulls back for breath, whatever restraint he had left shatters.

He lets go of her shoulders, reaching up to cup her face in his hands, and she gasps in surprise before his lips crash into hers. His kisses, unlike hers, are rougher, almost punishing in their intensity. Petra doesn't back down, her nails dragging up his chest. He grunts, pulling back when one of her hands reaches for his, her fingers wrapping around one of his wrists. She kisses down his throat, lingering at the hollow of it, and places his hand on her breast. Levi’s eyes widen and he feels himself hardening at the smell and taste of her combined with the sweet stench of alcohol, the feeling of her breast under his palm.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. He shakes his head and pushes her backward. “No,” he states, hating how breathless his voice sounds. There are too many reasons why they shouldn't do this. He’s more than ten years older, she’s intoxicated, and he can’t afford the distraction. He owes it to everyone – especially to her – to remain objective and focused. He forces himself to look at her wounded expression. “Don’t make this difficult,” he adds and it sounds like a plea.

Wordlessly, she takes several steps backward and gives him one last lingering look, almost apologetic, before she turns around. He watches her retreating form; the sudden loss of her warmth makes the cold seem unbearable by comparison


	2. Breath Kiss

They find each other in an alleyway, raw and desperate as they collide into each other. Petra clutches his cloak in a white-knuckled grip, her hands trembling as she pushes him until his back hits a brick wall.

His nose wrinkles at the smell of garbage, the sickly-sour scent of fear that hangs around them like a thick, suffocating cloud, before he buries his face in her neck. She smells like sweat and blood but underneath all that, she smells like herself and he clings to it as tightly as he clings to her.

The townspeople’s shouting increases in volume, turning into a horrible cacophony of grief and rage as the family members of the fallen come to the realization that their soldier’s not coming home.

"Levi," Petra whispers.

Levi pulls his head back and looks at her, really looks at her, and as usual, words fail him. No turn of phrase will take the darkness out of her eyes, or make their shit situation seem any better. So he acts. His fingers tangle in her hair and Levi pulls her face to his, pressing his lips hard against hers. Her mouth opens against his, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to her clammy skin. He releases the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding into her mouth and his eyes widen when she passes the breath back to him not long after. The sensation is strange, but not unpleasant, the tightness in his chest fading as warm air fills his lungs.

He breaks the kiss and makes a small, wondering noise. They’re both still alive and he releases a sigh of relief against her forehead before brushing a kiss there.

He’d do anything to keep her breathing.


	3. French Kiss

A date.

He suspected Petra meant it as a joke after he told her it’d just be the two of them for dinner because fuck knows where the other three are. But then she smiled and offered to make him dinner. He accepted because he saw no reason to refuse.

She giggled again and kissed his cheek, murmuring, “It’s a date,” sweetly in his ear before sauntering off. Still giggling.

It has to be a joke, he thinks, and then scowls. He feels a niggling irritation in the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch. A date. An actual fucking date. The sort of thing normal people do. Hasty fucks and jaw-breaking kisses after expeditions he can rationalize as just another way soldiers blow off steam. He can’t do that with a date.

"Food’s ready," Petra says. She sets a plate down in front of him. The food looks simple - meat with some sort of cream sauce and roasted potatoes - but the smell makes his mouth water.

"Thanks," Levi murmurs. He picks up a knife and fork and pulls the meat apart, marveling at the tenderness. Then he frowns. Because he knows military rations when he sees them. Or doesn’t, in this case.

"I decided to treat myself. The butcher gave me a good deal," Petra explains, spearing a potato with her fork. "I may have swiped a couple potatoes from storage though. Don’t tell anyone," she adds with an impish grin before taking a bite.

"And you’re sharing?"

"Would you prefer it if I didn’t?"

Levi hesitates and the smell tickles his nose again. “No.”

"Then eat," she says with a laugh.

The two of them eat in a companionable silence. The food tastes as good as it smells. And after both of them finish Petra tells him about her trip to the market, though it’s less a coherent story and more a meandering recollection punctuated with her laughter and his scoffs whenever she remembers something particularly funny.

"You aren’t talking much," she says eventually. At some point she put her legs in his lap and he distracts himself by tracing a circle around her ankle. "Less than usual, I mean."

Levi shrugs.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Levi answers.

Petra looks unconvinced.

"Is this a date?" he demands, the words bursting from his lips before he can stop them. "Or something?"

"A date?" Petra repeats. Then she smiles and bites her lip. Like she’s trying hard not to laugh at him. And he feels a flush start crawling up his neck. "Well, I’m not sure. I thought it was just two people enjoying each other’s company."

Levi feels a stab of disappointment and then scowls, because why the fuck should he be disappointed?

"But," Petra says in a low voice, pulling her legs from his lap and leaning forward, "if this was a date, I’d say we’re around the part where we’re supposed to kiss."

"Oh."

She laughs again before kissing him. It’s not the first time by a long-shot, but he struggles to remember another time when her mouth was as soft, as welcoming, as it is now. He can taste her breath, feel her tongue brush against his lips, and he opens his mouth to her without a second thought.

And she makes a noise in her throat like she appreciates it. Expressive, he thinks, and eager and they’ve fucked a grand total of three times and here he is, thinking like always.

He blames the domesticity of the whole night, the illusion of normality, for lulling him into something resembling contentment.


	4. Jawline Kiss

"You should take a break," Petra says, for the fifth time in the past half hour. She pauses, he assumes to take another bite out of the peach she brought. "You’ve been working all day."

Levi resists the temptation to look up from his paperwork. It’s not like she’s wearing anything special, just her uniform, except she unbuttoned the top two buttons and rolled up the sleeves. But it’s enough to lead him to distraction.

“It’s hot outside,” she explained, her voice so syrupy sweet it made his teeth itch. And then she batted her fucking eyelashes at him, which she only did when she was bullshitting him.

He shakes his head. She’s lucky she’s pretty, he thinks as he scribbles his signature on the dotted line.

"Do you like peaches?"

Sighing, Levi sets his pen down and looks at her. She looks back at him innocently, her eyes wide as saucers, and takes a small bite out of the peach. Juice dribbles down her chin.

"No," he answers, eyes following the droplet as it slides down the length of her throat. "The skin’s fuzzy and they’re messy."

"You like apples though."

"Yes," Levi pushes himself to his feet and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. "Here," he says, holding it out for her.

She ignores the offering and grins at him.. “Have you ever even tried one?”

Levi hesitates before shaking his head. “The skin’s fuzzy,” he repeats, making a face.

"Want a bite?"

Levi shoves the handkerchief back in his pocket because she clearly doesn’t care if she’s covered in sticky fruit juice. An idea occurs to him and he leans forward, pressing his lips against her jaw, his tongue darting out to taste her skin. She giggles so he does it again, and again, kissing and licking and nibbling at her jawline until he reaches her earlobe.

"Not bad," he murmurs in her ear.

She giggles again. “Told you.”

"Skin’s still fuzzy though."


	5. Lip-Gloss Kiss

Watching Petra put makeup on shouldn't be interesting, but for some reason Levi stays, leaning against the door-frame and trying to reign in an all-too familiar sense of wanting.

"How long is this going to take?" he asks. He sounds more curious than impatient, which surprises him.

Petra makes a thoughtful humming sound, pulling several things Levi can’t identify from a pouch. “I don’t put on a lot,” she says, meeting his gaze through the mirror and giving him a small smile, “so it shouldn't take too long.”

Levi gives a curt nod and observes. She paints her eyelids with powders in cream and copper before lining them with what looks like a brown crayon. Her eyes stand out more, earthy and luminous against her pale skin.

"You look good," he says half before he realizes it.

She smiles again before smearing something on her lips that makes them look redder and a little fuller and he watches, mystified, before it dawns on him that he possibly insulted her.

"Not that you look bad without it. Or a lot better with it."

Petra remains silent, putting everything back in the pouch. And Levi scowls, debates turning around and pretending this whole exchange (if it could even be called an exchange) never happened. But they’re all about to leave for some bullshit event and the last thing he wants is to piss Petra off beforehand.

"You look good all the time," he tries again. His cravat suddenly feels too tight around his neck and he tugs at it with his index finger, looking everywhere but at Petra. "Is what I meant to say."

To his relief, a wide grin halves Petra’s pretty face and she reaches out to cup his cheek with her hand. “Thank you,” she murmurs before planting a lingering kiss on her lips.

Levi smirks after she brushes past him into the bedroom, feeling relieved and more than a little pleased with himself. Straightening, he steps into the bathroom and scowls the moment he sees himself in the mirror. Whatever stuff Petra put on her lips now stains his own, making them stand out in sharp relief against his pale skin.

He immediately reaches for a towel and rubs it off and makes a mental note not to kiss her on the mouth until after the event’s over.

"What a shame," Petra laughs. "That was a good color on you."


	6. Only Her

It takes less time to reach Petra’s childhood home than Levi expects. His heart hammers in his chest as he limps to the door, still no closer to figuring out what he plans to say than he was several hours ago. Erwin scribbled some bullshit on a piece of paper for him and Levi feels it burn a hole in his pocket, kept only as a last resort.

Sighing, Levi slides the satchel full of Petra’s possessions off his shoulder and contemplates leaving it on the doorstep before an overwhelming feeling of shame hits him like a punch to the gut. He swallows past the sudden thickness in his throat and tucks the satchel under his arm before he knocks on the door.

The door swings open a few seconds later. Petra’s grief-worn father stands in the doorway, his raw gaze meeting Levi’s for a moment before he looks away. “You again,” he says by way of greeting, his voice rusty.

Levi opens his mouth to speak but the words die on his tongue. He stuffs his free hand in his pocket, fingering the small scrap of paper. After clearing his throat, he says, “Mr. Ral, it is with great sadness that I—”

A look of shock crosses the older man’s ragged features before it’s replaced with one of anger. “I already know that she’s dead, Captain,” he snaps before slamming the door shut in Levi’s face.

“Stupid,” Levi mutters under his breath. He takes the piece of paper out of his pocket and tosses it in one of the bushes. Instead of leaving, he waits. Sweat beads under his collar. His injured leg feel like it’s on fire. His muscles feel leaden. But he stands there and waits, listening to the sounds of civilian life around him. One hour passes and then another.

Then the door opens again and Petra’s father stares at him like he’s insane. “You’re still here,” he says flatly.

“Yes,” Levi says before taking the satchel out from under his arm and offering it to Petra’s father. “Here.”

He takes the bag and stares at it for a long time before he looks back at Levi with damp eyes. “Thank you.”

Levi grimaces. “Don’t thank me.”

Petra’s father looks at him a long moment before he steps aside and gestures for Levi to enter the house.

His first instinct is to run because Levi wants this whole exchange over as quickly as possible, but he feels compelled to stay, like he owes this man or Petra something. There’s nothing he can say to Petra’s father that’ll make it easier though. He knows that. But he also knows he hates feeling like he owes people something.

So he walks into the small house. The open windows keep it from feeling claustrophobic and the smell of spiced tea and fresh bread makes his mouth water. His stomach growls in protest and Levi realizes he hasn’t eaten since before the expedition. “Nice place,” he mutters because it seems like the sort of thing people are supposed to say.

Petra’s father ignores the comment, thankfully, and busies himself in the kitchen after setting the satchel down at the kitchen table. Levi stands, shifting most of his weight to his left leg, and watches the older man slice a loaf of bread and pour him a mug of tea. “Sit down,” he tells Levi.

Levi sits and accepts the food and tea with a nod. The tea tastes exactly like the tea Petra used to make and for some reason that bothers him, so he swallows it down as fast as he can before he starts picking at the bread.

“Did you love her?”

A piece of bread lodges itself in his throat and Levi coughs, beating a fist over his chest until he manages to swallow it down. “What?” he rasps.

“You heard me.”

Levi sits back in the chair and stares at a spot on the wall.

“I know she loved you,” he continues, an edge of anger in his tone. His voice shakes with the strength of it and Levi casts a glance at the door. He did what he had to do. No one would blame him for leaving. But he stays. “The letters made that fairly obvious. She was never good at hiding her emotions.”

“No,” Levi rasps, his throat raw from coughing. “She wasn’t.”

“And whatever happened between the two of you shouldn’t be any of my business, I know, but the thought that she loved you and you were just using her for some…some cheap thrill on the side makes me sick,” he spits the words like bile. “I’ve heard things about you.”

He feels rage, red as blood and twice as hot, pulse through his veins and he clenches his fists so tightly his knuckles turn white. “Cheap thrill on the side?” he grits out.

“It’s not unheard of. Men like you abusing their power to—”

Levi stands up abruptly, his chair skittering backwards. “I wasn’t taking advantage of her,” he says in a near-growl. Then he laughs, except the sound is harsh and bitter and it sounds more like he’s choking again. “She started the whole thing. With…with her fucking spiced tea and her fucking hair and that stupid-ass smile she’d give me. I didn’t mean for it to happen. You think I wanted to deal with all that shit?”

Petra’s father sits there and blinks like he didn’t hear anything Levi said. And the anger just continues to surge, the feeling more powerful than he’s felt in a long time. He paces back and forth, ignoring the pain shooting up from his leg, and focuses on breathing. It does nothing to calm him down and, in a moment of frustration, he picks the cup and throws it just for the satisfaction of watching it break.

“She fucking ruined me,” he seethes. “I don’t want anyone else now. The thought of fucking someone else makes my skin crawl but it’s not like she’s here anymore so what the hell am I supposed to do?”

A heavy silence falls over the two of them and Levi looks away, a flush crawling up his throat. He hears Petra’s father sigh and rise from his seat. “Sit down,” he says again, his voice so quiet Levi strains to hear him.

Levi clears his throat. “I should go,” he glances at the shattered cup at the other side of the room. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m just angry and I took it out on you,” he says and Levi looks at him. He’s so much like Petra. Or, Levi supposes, Petra was a lot like him. Hell of a temper, but quick to forgive and prone to coddling people. So Levi sits down again, exhaustion weighing him down.

“Grieving is supposed to be a messy process,” the older man continues as he sets to work on picking up the shattered glass. “Better to get it all out there. Otherwise it’ll eat at you.”

“I think I miss her,” Levi mutters.

Petra’s father stops for a second and looks up at Levi, a sad smile on his face. “I think you miss her too, son.”


	7. Fight Me

Petra watches Eren shuffle out of Levi’s office, exhaustion evident in the slowness of his movements and the tension that lines his smooth features, and frowns. His expression - brittle and strained - reminds her of the tired face staring back at her in the mirror that morning.

The door clicks shut with finality, leaving the two of them in a quiet room with nothing but their bitter thoughts to keep them company.

His chair creaks as he leans back, the staccato tapping his fingernails against his desk punctuating the heavy silence. Petra stands in the middle of the room, her arms folded across her chest. Her skin feels tight and hot, like it does whenever she’s about to lose her temper.

She clenches her jaw in an attempt to repress the feeling. “You could stand to treat him a little better,” she grits out.

"You almost struck him down a week ago and now you’re telling me I should treat him better?" Levi scoffs. "I’m not going to coddle him, Petra." 

Petra scowls, her fingertips digging into the flesh of her upper arms. “I’m not saying you should coddle him, but he deserves to be treated with respect! Have you  _heard_  some of the things you’ve said to him?”

Levi rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling. “Right. Why would he need me to coddle him,” he says, “when he has you.”

Of course that’s the thing he’d fixate on. Throwing the blame in her direction without hesitation. It’s the one thing he seems capable of giving sometimes, otherwise it’s just take, take, take.

"I don’t coddle him."

"Oh for fuck’s sake, Petra. I know you bring him extra pillows and blankets—"

"He sleeps in a dungeon!"

"You go out of your way to help him during training. Shit, I’m surprised you haven’t started spoon-feeding him his breakfast."

Petra grinds her teeth, her voice low and shaking with the effort it takes not to raise her voice. “I help him out during training because he’s inexperienced and that’s the sort of thing teammates do for one another,” she retorts. “Just like I help the other three with their reports, I run errands for Commander Smith, I listen to Hange talk about Titans and their experiments, and I’d fucking list all the things I do for  _you_  but I don’t have the time or the energy or the patience.”

For the first time since the argument started, Levi looks at her, his eyes widening fractionally before his expression slides back into it’s usual cool mask of indifference.

"This…isn’t about Eren, is it?" he asks after a beat.

Her arms drop to her side and she just stares at him, wondering what the hell goes on in his mind that makes it so hard for him to see the fucking point.

"It’s about both!" she exclaims. "Did it ever occur to you to listen to the rest of what I had to say?"

Levi blinks at her.

"I bet it didn’t," Petra gives a bitter laugh and shakes her head. "I said something you didn’t like so you went on the offensive like you always do."

"Petra—"

"The  _only_  time you even listen to me is when I say what you want to hear.” 

"That’s not true," he argues. For an endless moment, she thinks he’s about to relent, to give her something resembling an apology, but then she sees a flicker of annoyance flash across his stony features. "I can’t say I want to hear this but I’m fucking listening, aren’t I?" 

All the air seems to rush out of the room at once and Petra clenches her hands into white-knuckled fists. She wants is to hurt him, badly, and doesn’t care how. 

"I’m done," she states, her voice low and full of grit and almost unrecognizable to her own ears. Turning on her heels, she rushes for the door, snapping, "Don’t follow me," over her shoulder before he can even think of standing up from his desk. 

And it’s a small mercy - for his sake, not hers - that he finally listens. 


	8. Paint Me

When Petra first stumbles upon the sketchbook tucked away in his desk, she assumes it belongs to someone else. An item belonging to a fallen friend or comrade, perhaps, or something he stumbled upon and kept for whatever reason. 

She doesn’t know him well enough to be sure. 

Casting a glance at the door, Petra sets the stack of files on top of the half-finished reports. The cluttered state of his desk, the fact he left a drawer open, suggests he left in a hurry and could return at any moment. Despite this, and the niggling voice in the back of her mind telling her not to invade her superior officer’s privacy, Petra reaches into the drawer and pulls out the sketchbook. 

Petra flips through the pages quickly, occasionally lingering on a picture that catches her interest. One page features several sketches of a young man and woman, their features faint and almost vague, their outlines blurred. At the bottom right corner of the page was a date, written in thick, bold lines and underlined twice. 

Several of the pages have dates, she realizes, and her stomach sinks at the realization that the people on those pages were most likely dead. 

She hesitates, but her curiosity’s gotten the best of her so she continues flipping pages with a little more care, taking the time to examine each and every one.

There’s a sketch of the Commander - or at least she assumes it’s him, but it’s hard to tell since none of his facial features are drawn, and several of Hange making funny faces. 

Then she stumbles into a sketch that at first glance looks nothing more than a tangled mess of fast, almost violent lines but she looks harder until the picture somehow morphs into an impression of what looks like a woman, caught in an act of graceful violence. 

It’s not the only one. Dozens of sketches of this woman, her features getting sharper and more detailed as Petra gets farther along in the sketchbook. Then there’s more variation; the same woman tending a horse, or washing dishes, or doing nothing in particular. 

Then she reaches a picture of a woman standing by a window, her hands cupped around a mug and a wistful expression on her face, and Petra gasps, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. 

She looks up at the window, the same window she stood by just last week because she noticed the leaves on the trees were starting to change color, and then back at the sketch. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Levi growls from the doorway. 

Petra jumps out of the chair, her face burning when she knocks several papers onto the ground. “I was just—”

Levi storms towards the desk and slams the sketchbook shut. “Going through my things?” 

"Well, I—" Petra frowns and then looks down at her boots. "Yes." 

"Why?" 

Petra forces herself to look at him. His brow looks pinched, his mouth contorted in a scowl, but his ears look red. “I was curious,” she admits. Then she bites her lip, hesitating before saying, “I didn’t know you could draw.”  _Or that’s what you saw when you looked at me_. 

"I can’t," Levi snaps. He looks straight at her and Petra swears his cheeks are starting to turn a delicate shade of pink. "It’s not mine," he adds and glares at her like he’s daring her to contradict him. 

And Petra thinks he’s lying, but she supposes she doesn’t know him well enough to be sure. 


	9. Nurse Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Levi feels guilty about letting so many soldiers die on his watch. He gets little to no sleep and barely takes anything but tea during mealtimes. This goes on for a while until Petra confronts him about his neglect and completely wrecked physical and emotional state, and ends up helping him through it."

Petra awakens to the sound of Gunter retching, the smell of sick and sweat assaulting her senses before the pain returns in a hot rush that leaves her breathless. Her right leg aches fiercely, as does a number of other places she’d been injured in ways she struggles to remember.

But her heart still beats within her chest, and though she feels like a living bruise at least her body remains wholly intact.

She opens her eyes to the bustling infirmary and sits up, the movement awakening a litany of complaints from all over her body. Nurses rush around the room in a well-rehearsed dance. One of them removes the bloodied bandages from Gunter’s swollen head while he clutches a bucket to his chest. Another brings her a glass of water, which Petra accepts with a strained smile, and asks dozens of questions while she pokes and prods at the thick layer of bandages wrapped around Petra’s torso.

Three broken ribs, a laceration in her back, and a sprained ankle. The nurse tells her she’s one of the lucky ones and Petra’s inclined to agree.

She sips her water and examines at the others, relief crashing against her like a wave. Erd wears a cast around his neck and sleeps sitting up, his quiet snores filling the room. Auruo stares out the window while a nurse makes a cast for his arm and Petra feels a stab of benevolence towards him, knowing he hates feeling like he let the Captain down. They all do.

"This isn’t the first time you’ve done this." The sharp sound of the Commander’s voice startles Petra and through the crack in the door she sees the Captain standing with his arms crossed. "When are you going to realize it’s not your job to protect them?"

Levi’s sneers and he steps forward, spitting words like bile in the Commander’s face. “What was I supposed to do? Leave them to die?”

"You’re supposed to lead them, Levi. Not leave them to kill two Titans while you go off to fight four on your own.”

Petra grimaces. It stings, knowing that the rest of the Corps saw them as the best and brightest while their Captain still seems reluctant to trust in them or their skills.

What hurts worse is knowing the four of them would’ve died if the Captain hadn’t gotten back in time and dispatched the Titans that ambushed them.

"If this is about your old squad—"

"It’s not."

"You’re too attached," the Commander states, his tone softer but far from kind. Her heart thuds harder in her chest and she can’t shake the feeling that he somehow knows. Knows about her and Levi and secret kisses in closets and the nights she spends in his room. “Luckily for you, none of them died today. I wouldn’t continue to chance it.”

Petra listens to the Commander’s heavy footsteps as he walks off and watches a hundred expressions flicker across his face before his eyes catch hers. His features smooth, betraying nothing, and his eyes skitter around the infirmary before settling back on her.

She meets his gaze without faltering - though the hollow-eyed look he gives her unnerves her - until he looks away, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Suddenly, he slams the door shut, causing everyone in the room to jump.  

Several moments pass before Auruo asks, “What the hell was that about?”

"I’m not sure," Petra murmurs.

She stares at the door and tries not to worry.

-v-V-v-V-v-

Weeks pass, the four of them still battered and bruised and a little broken but healing, slowly but surely. Petra spends most of her time watching out for Auruo, Gunter and Erd that it takes longer than she cares to admit to notice something’s wrong with Levi.

"You look tired," she tells him one night, though the word fails to do the sudden bone-deep weariness she sees in his eyes and his posture justice.

For the first time since she’s met him, he looks his age and then some; his eyes hollow and ancient, the faint lines surrounding them more prominent, the blue shadows of his veins visible under his pale skin.

He moves papers around his desk before he stops suddenly, lifting a hand to scratch his head and frowning. Other causes for concern; his wavering attention, his lack of focus. He starts sentences and never finishes them, loses track of things.

She wishes he’d at least try to talk to her about it, rather than continue pretending everything is the same when it’s clearly not. She hates feeling powerless, hates seeing him suffer even more.

Reaching out, she places her hand on top of his and waits until he raises his eyes to meet hers before giving him what she hopes is a convincing smile. “I think we should call it a night.”

He shakes his head and pulls his hand out from under hers. “I still have work to do.”

"Do it tomorrow morning." Petra hears the strain in her voice beneath the determination to sound cheerful. "I bet it’ll be easier to focus after you’ve gotten some sleep."

"It’ll be easier to focus," Levi mutters, "when you decide to stop nagging me."

Petra tenses, her temper flaring. She clenches her jaw and her fists and tries her best to remain understanding. He looks so tired and haunted, but there’s a limit to her patience and to how long she’s willing to continue watching this slow-motion unraveling.

"Is this about what the Commander said?"

Levi stops writing and throws his pen down on the desk with a loud clatter. She watches the play of shadows across his face from the candle on his desk, hard as stone but melting into vulnerability around the edges - or so she thinks. Sometimes it’s impossible to tell if she’s seeing the real him or what she wants to see.

"What?"

"Outside the infirmary, I heard the two of you—"

"Like I give a fuck about that," Levi interrupts, his voice tight with restrained anger. "He was pissed the mission failed and he took it out on me."

Petra bites her lip.

Levi swears under his breath. “I’m fine, Petra. All I want is to get this fucking paperwork done.” He gives her a scathing look. “Without distractions.”

Petra scowls. “You look like death, Levi. You actually look sick. When’s the last time you slept? Or had a decent meal?”

“Stop,” Levi says. He scoffs when Petra gives him a look. “What? You think it’s your job to take care of me because we’re fucking?”

Petra feels something inside her go very, very cold and she crosses her arms over her chest, giving Levi the same unimpressed look she usually reserves for Auruo and his ridiculous boasts. “It’s not because we’re fucking,” she snaps. “I’m concerned as your subordinate. I need to be able to trust your judgement.”

He sneers, but his eyes look as hollow as they did after his exchange with Erwin. Wordlessly, he picks up his pen and starts writing. Not reports, Petra notices for the first time since she entered his office. Condolence letters.

Petra softens with understanding. She fights the temptation to reach out and touch him, knowing from the tension in his face and shoulders that he wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead she says, “I worry about you. Not just as a subordinate.”

Levi grimaces. “Don’t bother.”

No use in fighting a losing battle, Petra thinks as she rises from her chair. Both of them might be stubborn and proud, but unlike Levi, she’s not so proud she isn’t willing to ask for help when she so desperately needs it.

-v-V-v-V-v-

“I don’t think he’s sick, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be concerned.”

Hange moves around their lab, their movements still vigorous but lacking their usual enthusiasm. It still comes as a relief, the unlikely friendship between Hange and Levi, because it meant the lingering fear Petra began to harbor - that he had no one in the world he could truly call friend - wasn’t true.

“I don’t think he’s sick either,” Petra muses, running her fingers along one of the tables covered with stacks of unsorted papers and lab equipment. “But he might as well be. I don’t think he’s getting more than an hour or two of sleep every night. He’s been skipping meals.”

Hange halts. “He’s not eating either?”

“Not very much, no.”

“That’s not good,” Hange murmurs. “He loses weight easily. Last time—”

“There was a last time?”

Hange pushes their glasses up their forehead and pinches the bridge of their nose, exhaling a deep nasal breath. “He lost his first squad not long after he was promoted to Captain. He…didn’t take it well. At all.”

Petra swallows past the lump in her throat. “I don’t imagine anyone does.”

“It’s…different for him. People tend to forget he’s only been in the Corps for six years. The rest of us…we had at least five years experience before we were promoted to squad leader. I don’t want to say we’re more desensitized but it stops surprising you.” Hange frowns and looks out the window, eyes dark and distant like they’re lost in a memory. “I think it surprised him. I think it still does.”

“But we’re still alive,” Petra argues. “I know it was a close call, but we’re still here. We’re fine.”

Hange’s lips curl in a humorless smile. “In case you didn’t notice, Levi tends to dwell sometimes. And he cares about all of you more than he lets on.” Their smile softens, a knowing look in their eyes.

Petra flushes. “So what should we do?”

“Well…he’s avoiding me right now. The last time he decided to self-destruct, I drugged his tea so he’d get some sleep. I don’t recommend trying that. He got pissed and put laxatives in my food,” Hange laughs. “My advice? Don’t confront him head-on. He’ll get defensive and then he’ll start avoiding you too.”

“Then…how am—”

“Just keep on being your sweet self.” Hange gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It takes him a long time to get comfortable around people, but keep at it and he’ll open up a little. Maybe.”

Petra isn’t so sure about that, but she knows she has to try, at the very least.

-v-V-v-V-v-

“ _Make sure he eats_ ,” Hange told her, wagging a finger. “ _It’s easy for him to stop eating military rations, but put actual food in front of him and he won’t refuse it no matter how broody he’s feeling_.”

So Petra heeds their advice and invites Levi to go to the market with her. He accepts, either because he’s too tired to put up a fight or because he feels bad for snapping at her. Petra doubts it’s the latter - not once has she heard Levi apologize - but she still entertains the thought nonetheless.

The market’s brimming with vitality, farmers and butchers and fisherman boasting their wares while a throng of people drift between stalls and it livens Levi up a little, even if all he does is complain.

It was a good harvest, according to Squad Leader Zakarius, so there’s an abundance of food; strings of sausages, bloody cuts of meat wrapped in paper, sun-ripened tomatoes, golden peaches, an abundance of apples that mirror the colors of the changing leaves, all kinds of cheeses, stacks of lettuce, and bundles of herbs. Petra fills her basket as if at random and whenever Levi pauses, to smell an apple or trace his finger along a ruffled romaine leaf, Petra buys it without hesitation.

“Is there anything you’re  _not_  going to buy?” Levi asks when Petra hands the last of her money to a merchant selling bread.

She accepts the baguette and turns to Levi with a small smile. “You can tell whether or not bread’s good by the sound it makes,” she explains, ignoring the question completely. Levi raises an eyebrow so she squeezes the bread, grinning widely when it crackles. It reminds her of her childhood, all those warm afternoons and nights she spent helping her father. “See?”

Levi scoffs, but he lets her thread her free arm through his. “We should get back to HQ,” he says, scanning the crowd with narrow eyes. Petra hears his stomach rumble.

“Here,” she plucks an apple out of the basket and holds it out to him.

To her surprise, Levi takes it without saying a word, buffing it against the shirt like he always does before taking a small bite. Petra watches, delighted by his sudden appetite. “Not bad,” he mumbles. He catches Petra staring at him and frowns. “What is it?

“Nothing,” Petra says, and smiles.

-v-V-v-V-v-

Petra hums to herself as she moves around the kitchen, feeling something resembling peace, the future stretching itself out before her in a way it rarely ever did. Smiling, she stirs the beef stew so she doesn’t burn it like the last time and makes a platter with slices of fresh bread, discs of goat cheese, and blackberries to bring to Levi.

She finds him in the empty mess hall, sitting at their usual table with his head resting on his folded arms, his quiet snores filling the room. Petra tiptoes across the room and sets the plate on the table in front of him as gently as possible. Levi stirs, but doesn’t awaken.

At least he doesn’t until the other three burst into the mess hall. All of them smell like sweat and dead leaves, their voices loud and boisterous like they’re coming off an adrenaline high. Levi snaps upright and gives Erd, Gunter, and Auruo a glare so withering that all three of them stop dead in their tracks.

“Hey Captain,” Erd greets with a cautious smile. “There a reason you’re taking a nap in the mess hall?” he asks, his eyes flicking over to Petra.

“Petra’s making stew.”

Auruo snorts and smirks at Petra. “Again? Has she burned it yet?”

Petra stomps her foot. Not the most mature reaction but no one knew how to work a nerve quite like Auruo…except maybe Levi. The two of them were more alike than either of them realized. “Make your own damn dinner if you have problem with beef stew.”

“I love beef stew, but not when it tastes like charcoal.”

“Calm down,” Levi says to both of them. He stretches his arms over his head and rubs the back of his neck, wincing. “Are you guys going to sit or what?”

All three of sit down and Petra goes to get them all stew…which isn’t burned. Not even close. She smirks as she ladles it out into bowls, listening to Auruo babble about how much he’s missed using his gear and isn’t it great that someone of his talent is back in action?

When she walks back into the mess hall, Gunter and Erd are in the middle of explaining the new maneuver they’ve been working on, eager expressions on both their faces. Levi picks at the platter Petra made, putting more effort in tearing the bread into pieces than actually eating, but sometimes he plucks a blackberry and pops it in his mouth.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Erd says, snapping his fingers and looking at he expects Gunter to find the words for him. “It’s like a fake-out. Get into the Titans face, use exhaust like a smoke screen, and then whoever else takes it out.”

Levi frowns. “Sounds like a waste of gas.”

“Well, it depends on who does it. I’m pretty economical with it but Auruo over there—”

“My style of fighting requires a lot of momentum!”

“There’s other ways of building momentum than relying on gas. We’ll start working on it tomorrow,” Levi says, absently twirling his spoon in his stew. Auruo grins like an idiot for a second before he catches himself. “And you’ll have to show me that new maneuver. Not sure about it.”

“There’s some other stuff we need to show you. Petra and Auruo worked together and came up with some maneuvers. Ironically.” Erd grins at the two of them and stuffs a spoonful of stew in his mouth. “This is actually really good, Petra.”

“It’s not bad,” Auruo sniffs.

Petra kicks him in the shin. He tries to kick her and misses, so he settles for sticking his tongue out at her when Levi’s not looking.

“It really is good,” Gunter says. Then he looks at Levi, who alternates between watching them and staring down at his stew like something isn’t quite adding up. “Captain, you might want to eat it before someone else grabs it.”

Levi looks at Gunter, his eyes narrowing, and then he looks at Petra. For a second she sees a surge of something, hidden behind the tired, haunted eyes and passive expression. Surprise, she thinks, mixed with something else. Gratitude, maybe?

It’s always so hard to tell with him.

Levi scoffs. “I’ll eat when all of you stop staring at me like a bunch of freaks.”

All of them exchange looks before Auruo launches into a lengthy story about dinners at the Bossard household and how he learned to eat fast because his younger siblings were always trying to grab things off his plate.

Petra watches Levi out of the corner of her eye, feeling more than a little pleased. It’s starting to feel like it used to, Levi sitting with them throughout the entirety of the meal instead of leaving five minutes in. He seems to relax in his seat and Petra nudges his foot with hers as if to remind him that  _we’re here, we’re all fine, everything is alright_.

Levi rolls his eyes and - finally - starts to eat and Petra dares to hope that whatever hurt he’d been holding onto will, slowly, but surely, begin the slow-process of healing.


	10. First Time for Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prompt features sex stuff so. consider yourself warned.

The tension left behind from a long day of work and stress dissipates the moment his eyes find Petra sitting at his desk. She writes in her journal, one hand holding her copper hair at the base of her neck and he feels the corners of his mouth twitch at the sight of her features scrunched up in concentration.

Shutting the door behind him, he strides across the room. As he gets closer, it becomes clear she’s not wearing ordinary clothes or pajamas, but a slip in navy blue satin that molds itself to her skin. Save for the ribbons at her shoulders, the lingerie dips just above the curve of her ass, revealing the smooth perfection of her back and the dimple at the base of her spine.

His mouth goes dry at the sight. “Uh,” Levi tries to speak, but his tongue feels heavy and awkward in his mouth. “You’re not wearing any underwear,” he blurts.

Petra slants a smoldering look over her shoulder, her gaze warm and soft and a little wild all at once. “No,” she says with a quiet laugh. “Is that a problem?”

Levi shakes his head.

“Good.” She sets the pen down, shuts her journal, and stands. “You’re later than I thought you’d be,” she tells him, smoothing the fabric of the slip and peering at him through her lashes.

“Uh…I-I had a lot of paperwork,” he says, reaching out for her on instinct the moment she’s within arm’s reach. He runs his hands down her sides, reveling in the hollows and curves and the feeling of cool fabric against his skin. Then a thought occurs to him. “Is today important?”

Petra focuses on undressing him, first untying the cravat around his neck and dropping it on the floor. “Why would today be important?”

Levi fingers the strap on her shoulder. “Why else would you wear this?”

"Because it’s comfortable and it’s hot outside," Petra explains, giving him a pointed look as she gives his jacket a sharp tug. "Off."

"Bossy," Levi teases with a faint smirk.

He lets her remove the rest of his clothes, too distracted with touching her or stealing kisses whenever she gets distracted to bother doing it himself. A different sort of tension starts suffusing his body, heat gathering in his core and spreading out to his limbs. Watching her drop to her knees to remove his boots and pants is a peculiar form of torture, one that makes every part of him clench and his knees tremble. A strangled noise escapes his throat when her hot mouth traces the crease of his hip, his hands clenching into tight fists.

"Something wrong?" Petra asks, eyes wide with concern.

Levi feels heat rush to his cheeks and he shakes his head. “I just thought—” he pauses, biting his lip, because he’s not sure how to end the sentence without pissing her off. He doubts there’s a better way to phrase  _I just thought you were about to suck my cock_ , so he just shrugs and says, “Never mind.”

Petra looks at him, her eyes searching his, before she rises to her feet. “You can tell me if I did something you didn’t like,” she murmurs, rubbing her hands back and forth along the breadth of his shoulders.

"No, I liked it, it’s just - it’s nothing."

Her eyes widen, her mouth opening and closing as she pieces things together. “You’ve never had someone go down on you?”

Levi reaches up and rubs his forehead, his entire face burning. People liked to make assumptions on his sexual history, most of them unaware of his circumstances before the Scouting Legion. Worrying about food and shelter and not getting killed often took precedence to getting laid back then.

Honestly, before Petra, sex didn’t extend far beyond hasty fucking with little to no foreplay.

He looks at her again and gives a slight shake of his head. “I always had more important things to worry about than someone sucking me off,” he snaps.

"Hey," she says softly, kneading the tense muscles of his shoulders, and he feels a stab of guilt. "I’m not judging you."

"I know," he replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sorry," he mutters under his breath.

And Petra grins. Not a soft smile, like he expects, but something almost feral. She pushes on his chest and he lets her, feeling excitement and trepidation in equal parts. The back of his legs hit the bed and he allows himself to fall back. Petra climbs over him, sliding her body along his in a sinuous stretch and kisses him. Slowly at first, but soon her soft, languid kisses gave way to hungry, impatient ones that leave him feeling hard and ready.

But then she pulls away, leaving him desperate for more.

"You stay like this, okay?" she tells him, pressing his shoulders into the mattress for emphasis. "Let me take care of you," she adds, her voice little more than a husky murmur, and he feels his erection twitch at the sound.

"Okay," Levi murmurs.

She smiles against his breastbone before she starts tracing patterns across his chest and stomach with her mouth and teeth. She moves slowly, almost lazily, paying special attention to his scars and Levi jolts when she prods his naval with her tongue before trailing a swirling path lower until…

He clutches at the sheets when he feels her breath against the head of his cock. “You’re going to kill me,” he accuses softly.

"I haven’t even started yet."

He opens his mouth to respond but his mind goes blank at the first flick of her tongue against his flesh. She repeats the action over and over, shamelessly teasing, until he groans her name.

And then: soft lips around him, her mouth hot and wet, her tongue curling around him as she sucks. He swears vehemently, tangling his fingers through the soft strands of her hair with one hand while the other continues to tug at the sheets.

"Petra," he moans. It sounds like a plea even to his own ears but he can’t bring himself to care. There’s only so much a person can be expected to endure and he feels himself rushing against his own limits.

Amber eyes flick up to meet his as she slid her mouth up slowly, her pupils blown out and the look in her eyes scorching. She hesitates for an endless moment before she swallows him down again.

He rolls his head back and arches his back and just comes, pleasure spiking so hard it borders on painful.

Eventually, the world rights itself and he feels her crawl up his body as he gasps and gasps and struggles to regain a semblance of composure.

Her calloused fingers stroke his sensitive skin and he shivers as she nuzzles his throat. “I liked that,” he whispers before he thinks better of it.

Petra giggles. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”


	11. Precious Treasure

Levi frowns when Petra takes the gift from his hands without making so much as a sound. She turns it around in her hands, her brow furrowing like she has no idea what the fuck she’s looking at. 

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and rubs the back of his neck. His face feels hot. “I thought you liked—”

"I do," Petra breathes. 

 _Then what did I do wrong?_ He scowls at her lack of reaction. Erwin likes to remind him that his social skills leave a lot to be desired, but even he knows this situation usually calls for something resembling gratitude. 

Petra looks up at him, a slow grin halving her face. A dimple dents her left cheek. “You were listening!” 

"What?" 

"When I said I couldn’t wait for peach season because I love peaches!" She shoves the peach in his face as if to remind him. Levi raises an eyebrow because, yes, he knows she has a peach  _because he fucking gave it to her_. “And you bought me one! You saw peaches at the market and thought of me.” 

Levi doesn’t know what to say, so he just shrugs. Petra laughs, delighted, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmurs, as though he gave her something much, much more. 


	12. Join Me

The first thing Levi notices when he awakens is it tastes like something crawled in his mouth and died. Groaning, he sits upright and wipes the grittiness from his eyes. It’s almost eleven, according to the clock on his nightstand, six hours since he crawled into bed for a supposed short nap. Levi swears, thinking of the unfinished stack of paperwork that Erwin expects on his desk come morning and gets out of bed. He feels like shit, but the last thing he wants is another one of Erwin’s lectures on professionalism and time management.

His legs throb in protest when he stands, his joints popping with each movement.  He feels a weariness deep in his bone that must have settled beneath his skin while he slept. It’s a painful reminder he’s not as resilient - or as young, a niggling thought in the back of his mind reminds him - as he used to be. Grunting, he limps across the room and makes a mental note to stretch before sitting down for three or four hours straight. But first things first, he thinks. Namely, the disgusting sour-sweet taste in his mouth that is doing nothing to help his foul mood.

The bathroom door creaks as he pushes it open open, a surprising slant of light slicing through the darkness of his bedroom. Levi freezes at the sight in front of him. Petra floats in his bathtub, staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers like she’s surprised to find him in his own bathroom. His head spins from the leftover haze of sleep and the musky floral scent that hangs in the air. 

Petra shifts in the bathtub, the water sloshing around her. “I can explain.” She bites her lip, looking a little sheepish. It’s hard to tell if she’s blushing, her skin already flushed a pretty pink from the hot water.

“You’re fine,” Levi murmurs. He walks over to the basin, not allowing his eyes to linger on her damp skin or the stray pieces of hair clinging to her forehead and neck. There’s a stack of paperwork waiting for him on his desk, he reminds himself, scowling down at his toothbrush. No use in getting…distracted.

The weight of her gaze is warm and comfortable on his shoulders while she waits for him to finish brushing his teeth. “Are you okay?” she asks, her voice low and sweet. “You look tense.”

The last thing Levi wants to do is admit he feels like an old piece of shit, especially not to her. He ignores the question, wiping his mouth with a towel before slanting a look over his shoulder. “So what’s all this for?”  

Petra looks around the bathroom as if seeing it for the first time, an impish grin curling her lips. “Well,” she says. “We’ve been working so hard with training, I thought I should take some time to relax.”

“Relax?”

“It’s this thing well-adjusted people do sometimes.”

Levi scoffs and turns around to lean back against the basin.

“Baths are very relaxing,” she says. “The water’s still hot. Good for sore muscles.”

It takes every ounce of his willpower to remain where he stands. Petra’s gentle coaxing too compelling to resist, her voice pitched low to an intimate murmur. He looks at her, considering, watching as she absently rubs her freckled knees together. Tendrils of smoke rise from the still-warm water and the fierce ache in his back and legs intensifies with longing. A ten minute soak wouldn’t set him too far back.  

Levi tears his eyes away from her and rubs at his jaw, forcing the thoughts from his mind. “Can’t,” he mutters. “I have—”

“Oh, Erd and I finished it for you,” Petra says with a pleased smile. “We gave it to the Commander before dinner.”

Levi stares at her. “You’re shitting me.” 

“I shit you not.”  

“I’m supposed to believe Erwin let you get away with that?”

Petra nods.

“Really,” he says flatly.

“We told him you weren’t feeling well and that Erd and I were more than capable of dealing with it ourselves. He said it was fine.” Petra shrugs. “It’s not like he’s unreasonable, Levi. I’m sure if you told him you needed a break—”

“I’m  _fine_.”

“Okay,” Petra says with a smile, “but I bet you’d feel better than fine if you took a bath with me.”

Levi shrugs and starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

Petra giggles.“Really?”

He nods, wasting no time to strip out of the rest of his clothes. She’s frowning when he looks back at her, her eyes tracing the scar stretched across his abdomen. The nurses said it would never heal quite right because he walked around with it bandaged too many days before he went to the infirmary. He remembers Petra shouting at him while angry tears streamed down her face, her hands shaking at her sides. One of the things about her that he’d never get used to; the sheer novelty of someone caring that fucking much about his well-being.

“Stop staring,” he says.

Her eyes flick up to meet his, holding his gaze for a moment before she gives him another soft smile. She moves forward, making room so he can slide in behind her. The water is the perfect temperature, almost too hot, and he lets out a quiet hiss as he sinks into it by inches.

“Good?” Petra asks. She leans back against his chest, the ends of her hair tickling his collarbone. 

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, his muscles relaxing almost immediately. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s good.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU where Petra survives 57th Expedition and her reaction to how Levi treated Historia.

Petra roams the halls of their makeshift headquarters. Sometimes she ducks into an empty room to fuss with an unmade bed or wipe dust from a table for lack of something better to do. Others call it a safe-house, but she fails to see how the flimsy walls offer anything resembling security. Just a weak framework, far from strong enough to contain all their hopes and fears or all the different ways they seem to clash.

She tries to remain optimistic, but it feels like all she does these days is worry. She worries about the Titans and the government, about not knowing who the real enemy is anymore. She worries about her comrades - even her old squad, dead but not forgotten. Every night she tosses and turns, imagines seeing them the same way Springer saw his mother. Having to lose them all over again. She worries she’s no longer the same person she was before the 57th Expedition. She worries she is. She spends more time worrying about Levi than she cares to admit, even though they haven’t shared a bed in months. At night, she hears him haunting the halls, muttering swears under his breath.

He’s not the same man she remembers. Another thing she worries about, a knot of dread churning in her stomach. She still hasn’t found the words to say it to the grim planes of his mask-like face. He’ll do whatever it takes, she knows, even if he has to drag the rest of them kicking and screaming all the way. He’ll fight for humanity with every year left in his body.

Petra doesn’t doubt him, but she doesn’t think he was always this cold.

The hackles on the back of her neck rise when she rounds a corner, her stomach clenching. Voices travel down the hall from one of the room and her heart lodges in her throat when she hears Levi. The harsh, guttural tones of his voice both almost unrecognizable and distinctly him at the same time. Worries forgotten, she races towards the room and pushes the door open to find him holding Historia by the collar of her dress. Shaking her.

“Put her down!” she exclaims. The entire room freezes at the sound of her voice and she takes one careful step forward. She feels the weight of their collective gazes on her, hears several sharp intakes of breath, but it feels like all of them are far way. All she sees is Levi and the trembling girl in his hands. Another step forward, the sound of her booted foot hitting the wooden floor resounding in the quiet room.

Finally, Levi slants a narrow look over his shoulder, his eyes flint-hard. “Petra,” he growls. “Stay out—”

“Put. Her.  _Down_.” The next step forward brings her close enough to him that she can reach out and grab his shoulder. Her fingertips dig into his flesh through the fabric of his shirt. “Gently,” she adds.

He holds her gaze for what feels like an eternity, but he sets Historia down without looking at her. Petra waits a second after the girl’s feet hit the floor before she yanks back on his shoulder as hard as she can. He stumbles backwards and Petra steps in the space between him and Historia. She flinches when Petra places her hands on her narrow shoulders. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she murmurs, repeating the phrase like a mantra like she refuses to stop saying it until she believes it’s true.

A deep well of anger builds in the pit of Petra’s stomach, burning her from the inside out, but she forces herself to soften. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” she says, pitching her voice low in an attempt to sound soothing, but her voice shakes. “I’m…sorry,” she says after a moment of trying to find the right words and failing. She can’t think of anything better to say that isn’t a lie.

Petra lets go of Historia’s shoulders and straightens. “I think everyone should try and get some rest,” she declares, ignoring the feeling of Levi’s gaze boring into the back of her head. “Things are going to get harder before they get easier so…we should do what we can to prepare.”

No one moves at first, their gazes darting from Levi to Petra and then back again. But then Mikasa strides forward and stops beside the door frame, gesturing for them to follow with a sharp incline of her head. Jean clears his throat and Connie gives a nervous laugh, but eventually all of them file out of the room.

Eren hesitates. “Petra—”

“I’ll be fine.” She turns around to face Eren and by extension, Levi. The corner of her mouth raises in an attempt of a smile, but she suspects it looks more like a sneer. “The Captain and I need to talk,” she adds, unable to keep the grit from her tone.

“Okay,” Eren says. He looks at both of them for a moment, opening his mouth like he wants to say something before he thinks better of it.

Levi waits until the sound of Eren’s retreating footsteps fades before speaking. “What the fuck is your problem?” he demands.

And the towering fury inside her explodes, her hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at her sides. “Don’t you dare try to turn this on me!” she shouts. “What the fuck is  _your_  problem!?”

“She said she wasn’t going to do it,” Levi replies flatly. “I did what I had to do.”

“Bullshit.”

Levi runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Petra? Huh? Help her pack her bags and let her walk the fuck out?”

“Not springing it on her last minute would’ve been a good start!” Petra advances towards him, her mouth tight. “We’re forcing her on the throne and you told her last minute and…and you tried to hurt her!”

His expression darkens, his jaw clenching. “I am doing what I have to do,” he bites out, emphasizing every word.

“That’s not an excuse!” Her vision blurs with tears and she swipes at them with the back of her hand. It feels like something sharp and ugly is crawling up her throat. “I…you….she’s on our side, Levi! What the hell happened to camaraderie? You used to—”

“Things are different now.”

Petra feels something inside her go very cold, but she can’t say she’s surprised. “I guess they are,” she says. There’s not much left to say, she supposes. Levi does what Levi wants, but she refuses to let something like this happen again. “I’m not letting you lay a hand on any of them again. I don’t care what you do to me.”

Levi remains silent and after an extended silence he looks away, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Petra shakes her head, a bitter laugh bubbling up her throat like bile. When did things get this bad? How did they let it? It’s bad enough they had so many enemies. What hope did they have when they were fighting each other?

“I’ll leave you to think about that,” she mutters, moving for the door.   
He grabs her arm when she brushes past her, saying her name so quietly she’s half-convinced she’s hearing things. She slows, glaring at him as she shakes his hand off. He doesn’t reach for her again, or follow her as she rushes out the door.

The door slams shut with finality and Petra stops to lean against the wall, allowing herself a moment to just breathe. In one of the other rooms, she hears Armin and Eren doing their best to cheer Historia up. She swears she hears Historia crying and her heart clenches in her chest. 

She takes a deep, bracing breath and pushes herself from the wall, following their voices down the hall to make sure they’re okay. Or as close to okay as they can be, given the circumstances.

Someone has to.


	14. Hand Kisses

It’s almost midnight when he finds her in the gym, beating on a punching bag like she has some personal vendetta against it. She grunts and snarls with each movement, the chains holding the bag up clinking with each impact.

Two weeks since her near-death experience, Levi thinks, pushing the memory from his mind before it settles. Instead, he focuses on a bead of sweat that rolls down the elegant line of her spine and disappears into the waistband of her…no, his shorts.

"Those are mine."

Petra gasps and whirls around to face him, strands of copper hair escaping her short ponytail and clinging to her sweat-damp face. She glowers at him as she flicks a piece of hair from her eyes with her fingers. 

It’s then that he notices the blood on her knuckles. “What the fuck, Petra?”

Petra examines the back of her hands as if she’s seeing them for the first time. “I didn’t even notice,” she says softly.

Levi shakes his head and searches for a first aid kid, feeling a hot rush of irritation at her carelessness. He finds it wedged between two pieces of equipment, open with half the contents spilling out onto the wood floor. Shaking his head, he grabs a roll of bandages and marches across the room to Petra. 

"Please don’t be mad," Petra murmurs when he turns to face her. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking almost as frustrated as he feels.

He drops to his knees in front of her and takes her hand, setting to work without saying a word.

"Captain?"

"Don’t address me by rank when you’re wearing my fucking clothes," Levi snaps. He glances at her face long enough to see her flinch, and he sighs. "I’m not mad."

"Could’ve fooled me," Petra huffs.

An uneasy silence falls between them as Levi finishes one hand and moves on to the other. She bites her bottom lip like she wants to say something, but isn’t sure what to say. He wishes he could find the words for both of them, something to make them both feel better that doesn’t ring hollow like some useless platitude.

"Is it because I stole your shorts?" Petra asks. Her voice sounds light, almost teasing. He finishes wrapping her knuckles and looks at her, takes in the heaviness in her eyes, the slight strain in her smile.

"I’m not going to apologize," she adds mildly. "They’re really comfortable."

Levi scoffs, ducking his head to hide his smirk under the guise of inspecting his handiwork. I’m worried about you, he almost says, but the words lodge in his throat like a lump.

He leans forward on impulse and places a kiss on the rough fabric covering her knuckles, and hopes she understands.


	15. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remembrance prompt from Rivetra Week

Levi can’t remember a more brutal summer. 

The sun bore down on all of them with a vengeance during training, the back of his neck and shoulders turning scarlet under the harsh attention. Heat covered everything and everyone like a thick wool blanket, making them drowsy and irritable to the point where even Erwin didn’t see the point in trying to combat it anymore. 

So now Levi finds himself lying on his bed atop the covers, wincing with every droplet of sweat that rolls off his body and gets absorbed into his clean sheets. The curtains cover the open window, blocking out the afternoon sun, but effectively doing nothing to cool the room. 

"Squad Leader Zakarius says it might rain soon." Petra pushes herself upright, reaching over for the glass of water on the nightstand. He turns his head to watch her, admiring the languid grace of her movements. Her bra strap slips off one shoulder and he fixes it, his hand lingering on her damp skin. 

 "I doubt he can smell the fucking weather," he says. His finger traces the notches of her spine before coming to a stop at the scar of her lower back. "How’d you get this?" 

Petra twists, trying to look over her shoulder at the scar. “I think something happened with my gear or something,” she says with a sheepish laugh. “I honestly don’t remember.” 

"Hmm." 

She settles beside him, not touching, but close enough that he can feel heat radiating from her body.

"I got this from the bakery," she says suddenly, holding out her arm for him to see. Levi takes her arm and examines it. The mark is faint, but it’s there. "Hot sugar is dangerous." 

The corner of his lips quirks and he kisses the mark, something he learned from her. She smiles. 

"What about you?" Petra rolls to her side and props herself on her arm, leaning over him. He almost groans at the contact, but he figures dying from heatstroke while in bed with Petra isn’t the worst way to go. 

"How’d you get this?" she asks, her fingertips dragging along the raised flesh of a scar on his abdomen. Petra turns her eyes to meet his, and frowns when she sees his expression. 

"Not from a bakery," he mutters. 

Thankfully, she seems to understand, and kisses it without saying another word. “I never minded scars,” she muses as she stretches out beside him again. Her fingers trace a scar that curls around her hip. “I like that it’s sort of a reminder.” She pauses to meet his eyes. “That you survived.” 

Levi rolls his eyes, because  _of course_ she believes something that sappy, but he finds he likes the sentiment better than the idea that he wears his failures on his skin. 

Damning the heat one last time, he pulls her in close, and nothing more needs to be said.


End file.
